All posts for the month March, 2013

Author Rachel A. Qitsualik’s interest in bringing Inuit tradition/storytelling to Inuit (and other) youth in a manner that they might actually absorb…comic books… is truly admirable. And while the art and story are basically quite interesting, I think this falls short of its goal.

The art is fantastic. Jae Korim’s work deserves to be acknolwedged. Any youngster who’s grown up with comics or graphic novels will appreciate this art work. There’s definitely a sense of comic-book style, but there’s also a strong sense of aboriginal, or Inuit, style to it.

The downside is that there is not enough of it. I know that a children’s picture book is commonly 32 pages, but the number of pages devoted to artwork vary, and this book needs more.

The story itself is interesting. It’s not a traditional story I’m familiar with (I’m not widely familiar with Inuit legend), and I was intrigued. Here, too, I wanted more. I wanted to know more about the Qallupaluit creatures. Why did they steal a boy and keep him safe? I thought the boys’ reaction to his grandmother being mean was a fantastic leap in thought-process. I went back to re-read the story to figure out where that had come from. And while I see it…it doesn’t ring true to me.

But for a book like this, my ultimate question is: would I read this to my kids (or grandkids)? The answer is Absolutely, yes! I love exposing my children to a wide variety of legends and mythology and this would be fantastic. Would I buy it to have on my bookshelf? Again, yes. I would buy it. I would read it. But I would always wish it were a little more.

There is something kind of brilliant in the concept of this book. Young adult books are usually filled with so much angst and pathos, and it’s usually centered around death — the death of a close family member…the death of a close friend…the desire for death for one’s self.

Here, Adam Strand experiences the latter. But although he kills himself…he never stays dead. What’s brilliant here is that the reason for this is never explained. It’s not that Adam Strand fails in his attempts to kill himself. He succeeds, every time. But he is brought back to life, mysteriously, only to suffer and whine and complain about the boring-ness of life once again.

And he does whine about life.

I get it…it’s a classic YA gambit, and it actually didn’t bother me too much. Life sucks and nobody understands. So what else is new?

In usual fashion, our main character makes some realizations about life, through his death and through an unlikely source (WARNING *** SPOILER ALERT *** WARNING) a young girl fighting for her life. A local minister who comes to Adam’s aid, and offers advice, is also an unlikely (for Adam) source of information. But in keeping with the mystery of the book, the holy man never tries to explain why Adam doesn’t ever die.

Much of the time I enjoyed this read. The premise was intriguiing, the theme was right on target with what you would expect from a YA book.

But I can’t actually recommend the book.

Adam Strand himself was not identifiable.

I suspect that there are plenty of youngsters who consider, and even follow through on thoughts of suicide. Sadly, I know a couple who succeeded this past year alone. But I don’t think this book would have changed their minds or opened them up to new possibilities. Adama Strand is a jerk. He’s a jerk to everyone around him, and I don’t know that he ever redeems himself, with the exception of helping his friend.

When left to his own devices, Adam Strand seeks comfort in a bottle of booze. Fifteen years old and he’s an alcoholic. The CONSTANT use of alcohol was enough to make me think that this is not a book that either of my sons would ever read. They would not relate. I’m not sure they could even identify Adam Strand with others in their school — and if they could, would they care about the person?

And while the guy talk among teenagers is certain to turn to sex. The dialog was often just crude. I have no doubt that young men speak this way, but I didn’t find it necessary. The use of the “C” word was jarring, but purposeless.